Tango Time Machine — Tango Decoder

"Sur": Southern scribe's swan song

There are times when a voice, an orchestra, a style, and perhaps something else, indefinable—soul, divine grace—come together in such a way that all those sounds, packed into three minutes, are transformed into a masterpiece. This happens with the tango Sur as interpreted by Aníbal Troilo and sung by Edmundo Rivera. 

 Many times—as it occurred in this case—years have to pass before the elements are fused to produce such a marvel. The piece is played by other orchestras, sung by other voices, to no avail. It comes out flat, undistinguished. Decent, acceptable, no more than that.

[Pic: Homero Manzi]

 When Homero Manzi wrote the lyrics of Sur he had just received a diagnosis. He had turned forty a few days before. Now they told him it was the end. Just when he was starting to think he was getting old—we all do at that age—he realized that he was too young. A few months of life, maybe a year, was all he had left.

 Then he took a long, tender look at his childhood. Childhood is one big fable. Objects speak. Animals and children understand one another. Adults are always smiling. Homero Manzi recalled his old neighborhood, his barrio. The barrio of childhood always seems haloed by the warmth of the sun, surrounded by aureolas of light. The walls bounce the ball back to you, the sidewalk jumps over its own cracks [El acero se dejan saltar sobre las rayas], and the blacktop helps bicycle tires to roll more smoothly. A child’s neighborhood is always his playmate.

And then his first love bursts into memory and the emotions well up. The fragrance of the new bride’s cologne mixes with the smells of the barrio,

tu melena de novia en el recuerdo, 
y tu nombre florando en el adios...
La esquina del herrero, barro y pampa,
tu casa, tu vereda y el zanjón
y un perfume de yuyos y de alfalfa
que me llena de nuevo el corazón.

[your bridal tresses in my memory
your name flowering on a goodbye
The blacksmith’s corner, the mud and vacant lots,
your house, your street, the ravine,
and a perfume of herbs and of alfalfa
fills my heart anew.]

Today the barrio of Pompeya is in the center of Buenos Aires. It used to be to the south. Like all neighborhoods that are on the uncertain border between city and country, Pompeya included both pavement and gardens, single-story houses with courtyards and invasive housing blocks. In the first decades of the century there was barely an echo of the distant hubbub of the city. The blow of a hammer striking the anvil and the chirp of a saw cutting timber were the sole sounds of the barrio. When the noise stopped, utter silence fell upon the streets and houses.

 This could be the key. Edmundo Rivero was also born in Pompeya. When he sang Sur, he was not repeating somebody else’s emotions. He was remembering.

Sur... paredón y después…
Sur... una luz de almacén…

[The south, a big wall and then...
The south, a light from a warehouse...]

The big wall still stands. It’s sort of a tango relic, not unlike Rivero and Troilo’s performance, which took a long time to arrive and will never be surpassed. 

[From Musica y poesía del tango by Antonio Pau (Editorial Trotta, 2001) Chapter 54, “Sur," Translation by TangoDecoder.]

 

Tabernero: You who stupefy with your fiery concoctions!

We seem to be stuck on the theme of drunkenness here at Tango Decoder. Last time it was "The Wine of Oblivion" (La copa del olvido) and now it's "Bartender" (Tabernero). Me, I only drink when I'm in BsAs, and even then it's just a glass of Fernet to soothe my burning guts after eating too many empanadas and tortas. But it's a big theme in tango lyrics, so we can't ignore it! Anyway, I like this song, especially Enrique Rodriguez's version with Armando Moreno. Moreno's slightly sarcastic delivery—that nasty little snicker that comes into his voice—seems just right for this number. Trolio and Fiorentino are really at a disadvantage here, in my humble opinion. (The two versions were recorded two days apart.) There are a bunch of other renditions, including one by Gardel. Salud!

Tabernero (Bartender) 
Tango
1927
Music: Fausto Frontera / Miguel Cafre
Lyric: Raúl Costa Oliveri

Tabernero—bartender—you, who stupefy with fiery concoctions,
keep filling my glass with your cursed poison!
Until you see me crazy, rolling on the floor,
keep filling my glass, good friend, tabernero!

When you see me drunk, 
humming an obscene tango 
amidst blasphemies and laughter, 
and starting fights with other drunks, 
don’t throw me into the street,
my good friend, tabernero!
Keep in mind it was your cursed poison
That got me drunk in the first place.

I want to kill that broken spirit
that stupefies my brain.
Some get drunk on wine
others get drunk on kisses.
Since I no longer have any lovers 
And those I had are long dead 
I take pleasure in the wine 
That is poured by the tabernero.

All of us who are drunks--
It’s not that we wanted to be one! 
Only God knows the heart
that beats in each one's breast.
Can’t you see my glass is empty?
Let the wine flow, tabernero!
May my spirit find peace
in your cursed poison!

Keep filling my glass
Hahahahahahaha!
May I never find a cure.

Tabernero, que idiotizas con tus brebajes de fuego,
¡sigue llenando mi copa con tu maldito veneno!
Hasta verme como loco revolcándome en el suelo.
¡Sigue llenando mi copa, buen amigo tabernero!

Cuando me veas borracho,
canturreando un tango obsceno
entre blasfemias y risas
armar camorra a los ebrios.

¡No me arrojes a la calle,
buen amigo tabernero,
ten en cuenta que me embriago
con tu maldito veneno!...

Yo quiero matar el alma
que idiotiza mi cerebro,
muchos se embriagan con vino
y otros se embriagan con besos...
Como ya no tengo amores
y los que tuve murieron,
placer encuentro en el vino
que me brinda el tabernero.

Todos los que son borrachos
no es por el gusto de serlo,
sólo Dios conoce el alma
que palpita en cada ebrio.
¿No ves mi copa vacía?
¡Echa vino, tabernero!,
que tengo el alma contenta,
con tu maldito veneno...

Sigue llenando mi copa,
¡ja, ja, ja, ja, ja!,
que yo no tengo remedio.

The blind man's anguished sorrow?

The last lines of the song "Chapaleando Barro" are a bit mysterious. Lyricist Celedonio Flores speaks of "the anguished sorrow of that blind man immortalized by Carriego." As noted in my version of the song, the phrase appears to be a reference to Evaristo Carriego's poem, Has Vuelto. Tango Decoder's translation of the first stanza is below; original en castellano follows.

From Has vuelto (You've returned)

You've returned, organillo.* On the sidewalk 
there's laughter. You've returned, tired and fretful as before.*

The blind man waits for you / most nights seated at the door. He's quiet and he listens. Faint 
memories of distant things, 
he recalls in silence, of things 
from the days when his eyes had tomorrows, 
of when he was young...a sweetheart...who knows!

NOTE

*organillo: The organillo is a portable musical instrument of Spanish origin, a cousin and more or less contemporary of the Argentine organito. Both are played by turning a crank. The organillo, however, is a kind of mechanical piano, while the South American organito is an aerophone, a bellows-powered wind instrument utilizing flute-like pipes similar to those in a church organ. Carriego seems to prefer the word organillo, although the poem almost certainly refers to an organito and/or its operator, the organillero. Organitos were common in the arrabal evoked by Carriego's poetry; organillos were virtually unknown. 

*tired and fretful: llorón y cansado. The organito itself has a sort of whiny, sorrowful, refractory sound and it is difficult to maintain an even tempo. Also, turning the organito's crank requires a certain amount of effort. Turning it for a few hours a day, and wheeling or carrying the instrument from place to place, would likely render its operator tired and fretful. The characterization "tired and fretful," then, is doubly apt. (Upon reflection, I realize that I might have translated llorón as "cranky"—a neat pun.)

See also Tango Decoder's post on the organito, here. 

[en castellano]

Has vuelto, organillo. En la acera
hay risas. Has vuelto llorón y cansado
como antes.
                            El ciego te espera
las más de las noches sentado
a la puerta. Calla y escucha. Borrosas
memorias de cosas lejanas
evoca en silencio, de cosas
de cuando sus ojos tenían mañanas,
de cuando era joven... la novia... ¡quién sabe!

Photo: Evaristo Carriego

****

 

 

La copa del olvido: The wine of oblivion

Great tune, no matter who slices it: Tanturi/Castillo, Biagi/Duvál, Gardel, or Fresedo. The refrain is pretty easy to catch, "Mozo, traiga otra copa," (Waiter, bring another glass), but where does it go from there? I'm usually too busy dancing to notice!

My  English-language title, "The wine of oblivion," reflects a certain amount of poetic license. A literal translation would be, "The glass of forgetting" or "The glass of oblivion." Choose your poison.

PS: Dig the crazy typography on that sheet music! 

Song data at tango.info 

Another version at Poesía de Gotán.

La copa del olvido 
(The wine of oblivion)
Tango
1921
Music: Enrique Delfino
Lyric: Alberto Vacarezza

Waiter! Bring another glass
And pour one for yourself,
Because I’m very sad and alone
Since I learned the cruel truth.
Waiter! Bring another glass
Because last night, together, I saw them together...
I wanted to take revenge, to kill her,
But an impulse held me back.

I went out into the deserted street,
Without knowing how I got there
On asking the wise men
On asking them what I should do....
“Forget, friend”—some say—
But forget her I could never do...
And if I kill her, I’d have to live without her,
And live without her I could never do.

Waiter! Bring another glass
And pour one for yourself...
I want to get myself drunk on this wine
Let’s see if the wine will make me forget.
Waiter! Bring another glass 
and pour one for yourself.

¡Mozo! Traiga otra copa
y sírvase de algo el que quiera tomar,
que ando muy solo y estoy muy triste
desde que supe la cruel verdad.
¡Mozo! Traiga otra copa
que anoche, juntos, los vi a los dos...
Quise vengarme, matarla quise,
pero un impulso me serenó.

Salí a la calle desconcertado,
sin saber cómo hasta aquí llegué
a preguntar a los hombres sabios,
a preguntarles qué debo hacer...
Olvide, amigo—dirán algunos—,
pero olvidarla no puede ser...
Y si la mato, vivir sin ella,
vivir sin ella nunca podré.

¡Mozo! Traiga otra copa
y sírvase de algo el que quiera tomar...
Quiero alegrarme con este vino
a ver si el vino me hace olvidar.
¡Mozo! Traiga otra copa
y sírvase de algo el que quiera tomar.

Decile que vuelva: Unrepentant romeo runs rampant

Anyone else catch the irony in this lyric? Dude has been out partying for two decades and finally he realizes that the saintly little woman who has loved him all these years is worthy of his attention. But instead of running to her, getting down on his knees, and begging for her forgiveness, he asks some other dude to "tell her to come back; that's the only way I will be able to redeem myself of my bad deeds...." It's all about him, isn't it? And then he says, "Bring her to me, brother, because now I understand how stupid I was." No, brother, I don't think you do! Otherwise you would go and get her yourself! La Uruguayita nailed this guy in one word: mojigato.

Video of the Tanturi/Castillo rendition follows the castellano text.

Tango Decoder English-language version Copyright © 2014 by Michael Krugman.

Decile que vuelva (Tell her to come back)
Tango
Music: Miguel Bucino
Lyric: Miguel Bucino

Only now do I realize how good,
how saintly that woman is.
Poor little woman who loved me anyway,
despite the debauchery of my wild days.
Tell her, my friend, that I’m holding bouquets
of kisses purer than words can tell,
to plant on her beautiful eyes,
Weeping by her side with happiness and pleasure.

Tell her to come back; that’s the only way
I’ll be able to redeem myself of my bad deeds.
With the sweet kiss she plants on my forehead,
I’ll know she has granted me her long-awaited pardon.
Tell her to come back, to forget the past,
My bitter, shameful, wicked past.
Tell her to come back; bring her to me, brother,
Because now I understand how stupid I was.

Along with the bitterness of remorse
I hold the terrible secret of my bad deeds,
Of those loves now scattered to the wind
Not a trace remains in my heart.
The last twenty years were nothing but praises,
They all lied to me and I lied back;
I abandoned your love for tall drinks,
And the false luxury of wild parties.

****

Recién me doy cuenta de todo lo bueno,
de todo lo santo de aquella mujer.
¡Pobre mujercita que, en el desenfreno
de mis días locos, dejé de querer!
Decile, che hermano, que guardo manojos
de besos tan puros que no va a querer,
para deshojarlos en sus lindos ojos
llorando a su lado de dicha y placer.

Decile que vuelva; así, solamente,
podré redimirme de mi mala acción.
Con un beso bueno que ponga en mi frente,
sabré si me otorga su ansiado perdón.
Decile que vuelva, que olvide el pasado,
mi pasado amargo, bochornoso y ruin.
Decile que vuelva; traémela, hermano,
que ahora comprendo lo tonto que fui.

Junto a la amargura del remordimiento
guardo el entripado de mi mala acción,
aquellos amores se los llevó el viento
y ni rastros quedan en el corazón.
Mis veinte años fueron colmados de halagos,
me mintieron mucho y también mentí;
dejé su cariño entre grandes tragos,
en el lujo falso del loco festín.